


frozen

by zigsexual (anythingbutloud)



Series: the driam vignettes [5]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, M/M, the dralivia is fwb i just feel like that should be noted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingbutloud/pseuds/zigsexual
Summary: the social season has started and their relationship has ended and drake can’t find a place to stand in between.





	frozen

**Author's Note:**

> we’re starting to get into complicated territory now that riley (last name brooks) has arrived so there are new pairings and more finagling with canon hell yea!! also there is a fully a scene between drake and liam thats literally just liam being like “haha and then what ;)” and i apologize for that.

Riley is laughing, eyes sparkling as she tries her best to let Maxwell lead her through the complicated steps of the Cordonian Waltz. It’s clear he’s forgotten to teach her ahead of time, judging by how often she steps on his foot, but her abject failure doesn’t seem to deter the spring in her step. And of course, why would it? Even as Liam is dancing with Olivia — their gracious hostess — his eyes are drawn to her.

The chill in Drake’s blood isn’t just from the air of Lythikos, as much as he wishes it was. As he watches Maxwell attempt to twirl Riley, he takes a long sip of his drink, barely feeling the burn as it goes down.

He hates her. He hates Maxwell bringing her here, he hates Tariq for even picking that bar in the first place, and he hates Liam for letting it all happen.

Well. He doesn’t hate Liam. He could never hate Liam.

But he hates her.

He’d always figured that when Liam entered into the inevitable royal marriage, it would be someone they all knew, someone familiar and safe. One of the harmless girls they’d grown up with at court who would never truly capture his heart. That would have been okay — not _good_ , but okay — Drake had steeled himself for such an outcome as the social season approached. He was prepared, more or less, to watch Liam marry someone for the sake of the country.

He’s not remotely prepared to watch Liam marry someone for love.

Perhaps love is too strong a word (god knows he’d had his own use of it); they’ve only really known Riley a few weeks, and although she’s sharp and charming and strong-willed, there are plenty of flaws yet to be unearthed, that he is sure of. Liam’s infatuation with her could very well be tied to the fact that she’s a fresh face at a court that has long been populated by the same dreary crowd. Her novelty, in this case, is an advantage.

The song finishes, Riley dropping in an exaggerated curtsey while Maxwell responds in an equally ridiculous bow. They’re still laughing when Liam crosses the room, tapping Maxwell on the shoulder and whispering something Drake can already guess.

He raises his glass to his lips again, grateful that Olivia’s petty hierarchical nature had seated him in the very back of the room. Easier to drop away unnoticed the second the opportunity arose.

As Liam leads Riley off for another traditional dance, Drake hears someone approach next to him. He barely has a chance to turn his head before he feels a familiar set of long, manicured fingernails dig into his shoulder.

“Olivia,” he sighs, not even bothering to look back at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Olivia wastes no time getting straight to the point. “What does he see in her? Is she giving off sex pheromones only men can smell?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Olivia sits herself down in the chair next to him, a glass of champagne clutched in her other hand. “I said only _men_ can smell them. _”_

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Round two so soon?”

He shoots her a glare, but she only smiles demurely, and finally he looks away from her to take another long sip of his drink. He would never admit it, but over the last few years he’s developed a begrudging respect for Olivia, and he supposes she must regard him in a similar fashion by now. Otherwise he can’t imagine she’d have proposed their current arrangement.

“Do you think they’ve…” Olivia trails off, frowning into her drink. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’d rather not know.”

“Knowing Liam, I doubt it,” Drake replies, his chest tightening at the thought. Another sip of whiskey. “He’s been serious about giving everyone a chance.”

“ _Everyone_ ,” Olivia scoffs.

Riley is grinning up at Liam, his hand on the small of her back as they move together through the song. She has to know that every single girl in the room wants her dead, doesn’t she? But both she and Liam seem entirely unblemished by the metaphorical daggers being shot their way. Liam leans in to whisper something to her, and she presses a kiss to his cheek.

Drake downs the rest of his drink and stands up.

“Do you want another champagne?” He asks, glancing over at Olivia. “I’m going back to the bar.”

The song has ended, and now Liam and Riley are talking, oblivious to any others around them. Olivia is watching the two of them, a pained expression on her face.

“I’m cutting in,” she says, handing her empty glass to Drake in lieu of a response and striding out onto the ballroom floor with as much grace as a woman scorned can muster. Drake leaves the champagne flute at the table, rolling his eyes, trajectory already set towards the bar.

He’s only been there a minute or two when he feels another hand on his shoulder, this one softer and smaller, and its accompanying voice puts a knot in his stomach. “Hey, you.”

“Brooks,” he replies, turning back to look at her. She really is beautiful, especially in her dress for tonight, all satin and shimmer and doe-eyes. In another world, maybe he could have tolerated her, could have been happy for Liam watching the two of them fall in love.

Not this one.

“My feet hurt,” she says, leaning on the counter next to him, her hair falling over her shoulder. “How do you handle doing this stuff on a regular basis?”

“I usually don’t wear heels,” he deadpans, finding himself already halfway through his drink. Ugh, and this one was a double, too. “That’s your first mistake.”

She raises an eyebrow, surveying him in amusement. “Well well well, it has a sense of humor.”

He shoots her a glare. “Aren’t you a peach.”

“So I’ve been told.” Riley steals a quick glance out at the ballroom, and when Drake follows her gaze he finds his eyes led right to Liam, Olivia clinging to him as they go through the motions of some ridiculous dance they’ve clearly been trained in since birth. Down goes the rest of the whiskey.

“What’s your deal?” Riley says. “I know I’m not your favorite person, but surely I’m at least more fun than _Olivia_.”

“Who says you’re not my favorite person?”

“ _You_.” Riley looks at him incredulously. “Come on Drake, you’ve been treating me like a gold digger since the day I met you. If you’re willing to give Olivia a chance, it’s the least you could do to show me some civility.”

“I’ve known Olivia for years,” Drake frowns into his empty glass. “I’ve known you — what, a couple weeks? And all of that time has been devoted to you trying to bag my best friend. So no; I don’t owe you anything.”

Riley sighs. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the floor, and the both of them turn to see what the fuss is about, only to be greeted with the unwelcome sight of Olivia engaged in the world’s most one-sided kiss with Liam right in the center of the dance floor. Elsewhere, the other suitors are staring, some open-mouthed, as Liam pulls away from Olivia, whispers something to her sharply, and begins firmly leading her towards the ballroom door.

He doesn’t look angry — years of political training have made it easy for him to maintain composure — but Drake can tell he’s rattled.

“Shit,” Riley mutters next to him, “That was ballsy.”

“What was she fucking _thinking_ ,” Drake seethes, slamming his glass down on the bar counter much too loudly. The tittering crowd barely pays him notice.

“She’s just thinking what everyone else here is, I guess.”

Drake ignores Riley’s comment, leaving her behind and heading towards the exit as well. Maybe Liam isn’t quick to anger, but Drake can already feel the blood rush in his ears as his mind replays the memory. How dare she — when she _knows_ —

By the time he’s crossed the floor, pushing through the throngs of disgruntled suitors, and managed to track down their path through Olivia’s winding hallways, Liam has vanished, leaving only Olivia out on the balcony of her estate, arms crossed tightly against the wind.

“What the fuck was that?” He hisses, not even checking to make sure they’re fully alone. She turns at his voice, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, already scowling.

“Go _away_ ,” she growls back at him, smacking his wrist when he reaches out to grab her arm. “And  _don’t_ touch me. You’re the last person I want to see right now.”

“Oh, and you think I wanted to see _that_?”

“Of _course_ you’d make this about you!” Olivia yells, backing away from him, smearing her makeup as she drags another hand across her eyes. “Every fucking thing always has to be about you, doesn’t it? You never stop to think about how _anyone_ else feels!”

“Shut up,” Drake spits out, “You had no _right_ —”

“He’s not yours!” Olivia throws up her hands. “Who are you to talk about what _right_ I have? None of this is about you anymore and you _hate_ that, don’t you? You hate that you don’t get to mean anything to him anymore.”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about —”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know,” Olivia says coldly. “You’re  _that_ simpleminded that you don’t even see the way he looks at that American girl? The way that he —”

“Fuck you,” Drake seethes, “You’ll never stop being jealous that he picked me. You spent years trying the same old bullshit, but he was in _my_ bed the entire time, and you just can’t get over it.”

“Oh really?” She sneers, crossing her arms tight over her chest, fingernails leaving marks as they dig into her arms. “Because last time I checked, he dumped you for the throne.”

“You have no idea — you don’t even know what you’re _talking_ about —”

“Don’t I? I’m almost certain he’s looking for a _Queen_ —”

“Jesus!” Drake snaps, his mind going blank as the words come out, white-hot and searing. “He doesn’t want to fuck you, Olivia! He didn’t then and he doesn’t now, and if you think for a second that you’ll ever get to touch him the way I did, you’re only playing yourself, because I’m every single one of his firsts and you’re not even in the running to be dead last.”

Olivia slaps him, her nails scraping along his cheek. It’s only then that he realizes how drunk he is — how drunk they both are — how faraway her hand feels. He brings his own up, fingertips grazing the spot, checking to make sure it’s real. The sting doesn’t set in until a few seconds later, and when it finally does, he grits his teeth against the pain. He probably deserves it, anyway.

“I hate you,” she says, voice dark and cold. “You egotistical, _worthless_ piece of hillbilly trash. You don’t deserve to even breathe my air.”

“Then I won’t,” he retorts, turning on his heel and marching off the balcony, slamming the door shut behind him.

—

She gets her revenge the next evening, standing in the parlor room spewing half-truths about Savannah like she knows the first thing about his sister. He’s torn between wanting to fight her and fuck her, the endless line the two of them walk, but when it’s all said and done he just decides to leave. Again.

Things with him and Olivia… it’s better to keep them behind closed doors. It’s already hard enough to understand the tenuous dynamic they share without anyone else weighing in.

He ends up outside, skirting the edges of the pond they’d used for ice skating the day prior, clearing a path in the snow towards the forest. The wind has picked up, biting against his exposed skin, but he’s already numb in more ways than one.

He’s not sure why the kiss got to him so badly. He knows that Liam feels only familial affection for Olivia; the way he talks about her is near identical to the way Drake talks about Savannah. As much as she might try, there’s never going to be a spark there. Similarly, it’s not as if Olivia’s actions are some deep betrayal. He’s always known where the two of them stand, especially when it comes to Liam. They’d cross each other in a heartbeat for him. He can’t blame her for that.

He toes the snow in front of him, reaching down and packing a fist-sized ball between his hands. Once it’s solid, he throws it as hard as he can into the forest, waiting until he hears the sound of it breaking against a distant tree.

It’s not the fact that Olivia kissed Liam. It’s the fact that anyone did — that anyone _could_ — and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

“Target practice?” A voice calls out from behind him. He turns, expecting to see anyone other than the American girl, Riley, trudging after him in the snow.

“What are you doing?” He says, furrowing his brow.

“I’m following you, idiot.” She finally catches up to him, breathing more heavily than usual, her cheeks red with cold. “Didn’t want you to wander out and off yourself.”

“Touching.” Drake shoves his hands in his pockets, bracing himself as another chilling gust of wind blows through.

“Do you want my jacket?” Riley offers. “You look freezing.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be _my_ line?”

“That would imply you’re a gentleman. Jury’s still out.”

He almost cracks a smile, catching himself before Riley can see. “Okay, okay, truce. I’m too cold to think of a comeback.”

“I knew you were freezing,” Riley links her arm through his without warning, tugging him towards the direction she’d just come from. “Come on, let’s go back inside and get you warmed up. It’s good practice so you can warm up to _me_ afterwards.

“You don’t quit, do you?” Drake doesn’t pull his arm away, letting her lead him back through the remnants of their snowy footprints.

“Never. It’s the New Yorker in me.”

They walk for a few minutes in silence, the sun slipping away into the horizon with each step. It’s only getting colder, and he could swear that the lights of Olivia’s mansion aren’t getting any closer.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Riley says.

“Well, now you do.”

“You never talked about her.”

“I never talked to you about anything.”

Riley sighs. “Maxwell says you’re a good guy, deep down, but I’ve yet to find any evidence of that. You’re the world’s worst archaeological expedition, Drake.”

“Maxwell says that about everybody. Maxwell could find something nice to say about Madeleine, probably.”

Riley smiles at that, looking down at her feet. “I’m glad he’s… I’m glad I get to hang out with him. Stuff here is so tricky, like everyone around me is just waiting for me to mess up, but Maxwell is so straightforward. He makes me feel like I could belong.”

Drake doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on finding footholds in the banks of snow. The light is leaving quicker than they can catch it, and it’s getting harder and harder for him to follow the footsteps he’d made earlier. Riley almost slips on a rock, catching herself against him before she falls.

“If I sprain my ankle out here, it’s your fault,” she quips, elbowing him in the side. “Fat lot of good it did me, too. You won’t even tell me about Savannah.”

“You really wanna know about her?” Drake shoots Riley a sidelong glance, her face barely visible in the shrouded moonlight. “She worshipped these people. Olivia, Madeleine, Maxwell… Liam. She wanted to _be_ them, and she tried as hard as she could to convince them she was just the same, that she belonged. But she never did, and they would never let her, so she left.”

Riley is quiet. “What do you mean, she left?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know where she is. She up and vanished one day, after one of Maxwell’s enormous parties. Just packed everything up and fucked off.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to feel bad for me. I want you to understand.”

The lights of the house are bright enough now that he can see her watching him, brow creased in concentration.

“This world doesn’t care about you,” he tells her, “Everyone here… they don’t care about love or kindness or belonging. They care about titles and bloodlines and money. And if you don’t have all three, they’ll chew you up and spit you out and chase the taste with another fucking party.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, pulling his arm away from her as they approach the side entrance. She pauses, long enough for him to hazard a look back at her.

“Is that what they did to Savannah…” she asks, “or to _you_?”

For a long moment they lock eyes, saying nothing. Maybe she’s smarter than he’s been giving her credit for.

—

On their last day in Lythikos, he gets up early, earlier than the dawn. It’s too hard to sleep, anyway, with the memories of these past few days running through his head: Riley’s hushed laughter echoing in the hallway as Drake sat alone in Olivia’s wine cellar, knowing full well who was causing that laugh; Liam holding her hand to keep her steady as they skated together; the kiss he’d pressed to her cheek when they parted on the dance floor.

He stands in the kitchen and takes a long drink of Irish coffee — his second this morning — savoring the scorch it leaves behind as he watches the snowfall from the large window across the room. The passing of time has become increasingly arduous. He’d thought, if he could just hold things at arm’s length for a while longer…

“So you’re a morning person now?”

Liam’s voice still makes his pulse quicken, heartbeat loud in his ears. He doesn’t turn around to face him, but the effect is all the same. “Maybe. Things change.”

He hears Liam approach, tentative steps toward him mired in their past. Had it already been a year? Two?

“How are things?” Liam asks, finally pausing a few paces from his side. “I know we haven’t had the chance to check in much since the activities started picking up.”

Drake rocks back on his heels, holding the mug in his hands like a lifeline. “Ah, same old. I talked to Riley some yesterday.”

“What do you think of her?”

“I think…” Drake pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. “I think she’s a force to be reckoned with. Madeleine has her work cut out for her.”

Liam lets out a disgusted sigh. “I can’t believe Regina pulled that stunt.”

“She doesn’t actually expect you to pick up on Leo’s sloppy seconds, does she?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You don’t, though,” Drake says quietly, raising his drink to his lips and letting the liquid burn against his tongue. “You never have.”

Liam looks at him, whatever real emotion he’s feeling locked safely away behind his eyes. Drake misses the days he held those keys.

“I think Riley’s fine,” he says, setting down the now empty mug on the counter. “I’ve known her as long as you have. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter what I think about her, it’s what _you_ think about her.”

“It matters to me,” Liam answers, “What you think.”

“I know.”

And god — the history between them _aches_ like an old wound. Drake tries to remember how it felt to hear Liam say his name in that breathy voice of his, lips against his skin and hands all over. He has to take a deep breath when the memory washes over him. The longing never quite dulls enough to be painless; it’s always manageable, but never gone.

“Do you like her?” Liam’s voice is tentative, testing uncharted territory.

“If you need me to.”

“I might.”

Drake nods, looking down at his hands. He’s already fidgeting for something else to hold. “You’re… I mean, you’re absolutely certain Olivia is off the table for you?”

Liam grimaces. “Like kissing my sister.”

“You know she’s in love with you, right?”

“I know that she thinks she is. I’m not quite sold on the reality of it.”

“Seems pretty real to me.”

He can feel Liam looking, reading him too closely. “I suppose you’d know.”

When Drake finally looks back at him, Liam’s biting into his bottom lip, staring at him with too much yearning in his eyes for someone that had spent the other night dancing with a girl from America. He’s usually more careful not to let his guard down, and Drake thinks that maybe this time it’s deliberate.

“Can’t believe I’m getting all your precious alone time,” He muses, holding Liam’s gaze. “The suitors clearly aren’t taking advantage of this.”

“And how would you suggest they do that?” Liam’s face stays even, controlled — but his voice dips slightly lower.

“How would I… if I were a suitor?”

Liam nods.

They’d promised each other not to do this. They’d tried so hard, done everything they could to keep the feelings at bay. But when Liam looks at him like that, talks to him like that — how can he say no?

“Well,” Drake draws out the pause, drumming his fingers on the countertop for a beat too long, “If I was one of them, I’d probably start by telling you how much I love the way you look in the morning, like you’re still walking out of a dream.”

“I’d hope it would be your dream.”

Drake laughs softly. “Okay, and then I’d make fun of you for saying that.”

“But not _too_ much?”

“Not too much.” Drake takes a deep breath, eyes falling back to the window, where the wind has started to pick up against the snow. “And while you’re distracted thinking about what a fool you’ve made of yourself, I’d kiss you until you forget it ever happened.”

Liam is leaning in against the counter just as Drake is leaning back, his hand resting as close to Drake’s as possible without touching. It’s torture doing this, to both of them, but Drake can’t stop himself.

“Then I’d tell you… I’d tell you how much I want you, how I can’t stop thinking about what it feels like to touch you, to taste you. How much I want to show you exactly what you do to me.”

Liam’s quiet intake of breath speaks volumes. “That’s… not generally how a suitor speaks to their monarch.”

“Yeah?” Drake raises an eyebrow. “Well you can tell those other girls I talk to you how I want. And you fucking like it.”

“I…” Liam clears his throat, cheeks already flushed in that adorable way of his. He’s too pure for his own good, despite everything Drake’s done to change that. “In this scenario, how would… what would you do if I said I feel the same way?”

“I’d say… that if we’re quiet, we can head back up to the sleeping quarters without waking anyone else.”

Liam’s eyes meet his, dark and lustful, barely holding on to the tenuous space between them. One wrong step, one _right_ step, and —

“Why head back up there?” Liam says. “Seems like an unnecessary detour.”

Drake sucks in a short breath, careful not to let himself break. “Okay… _okay_. Well then, scratch the sleeping quarters. We’ll just have to be quiet _and_ fast.”

A small smile breaks across Liam’s face. “Naturally.”

“So, if we don’t have much time, I’d probably start here,” Drake taps the side of his neck, “because I’ve been doing my research and I know that gets you off.”

“Your research?”

“Mmhm,” Drake can see right through him, right to the electricity in his veins. “Maybe I know there’s only one person who’s ever made you feel good like that. Maybe I asked.”

Liam’s smile spreads, and he bites the corner of his lip to hold it in.

“Only problem is that’s not gonna make you quiet,” Drake continues, “So then I’d have to keep your mouth occupied for a while. Or is it better to just focus on the fast?”

Liam’s hand moves dangerously close to his, the warmth of his skin like a spark in Drake’s heart.

“Obviously I’d need to get you out of your clothes,” he manages, voice catching at the way Liam looks at him. He clears his throat, continuing. “Undo all those damn buttons. Make fun of you for wearing a dress shirt this early in the morning. Probably let you kiss me until I shut up.”

“I’m a _prince_ , I can’t just wear a hoodie.”

“Oh my god, literally _no one_ is awake to see you. But fine, whatever.” He drops his gaze down slightly, eyeing the hem of Liam’s shirt. “You like it anyway, making me do all the work.”

“Not _all_ the work.”

Drake’s mouth quirks up at one corner, catching Liam’s eyes for a long, charged moment. “I’m only halfway there though. Gotta get in your pants first, tell you what I’m gonna let you do to me.”

“Which is…?”

“Anything you want,” Drake breathes, “I’m a suitor, yeah? I aim to please.”

Liam leans in to whisper in his ear, breath hot against his skin. “What if I want you to _tell_ me?”

“Okay, your _highness_ ,” Drake lowers his voice, feeling bold as he moves closer to Liam, one leg nearly between his, closing the distance between them so only the memory of space remains. “First, I’m taking all this off as slowly as possible, get you back for all your stupid buttons wasting my time. And when it’s been just long enough to drive you crazy, I’ll let you get me on my knees. A good suitor kneels for royalty, right? So I’ll be good for you, as long as you want, all for you. And when you’re done with me, and I’m begging for it, I want you to take me right here on the counter. I want them all to hear how you make me feel — _only_ me — how much I love it, how I’m the only one who gets to make you come like that, and we can say fuck it to being quiet until I say your name so loud even the sun wakes up.”  

Liam stares at him, face flushed, lips parted.

“God,” he finally says, “I want you so fucking bad.”

_Then have me._

Drake is breathing too shallow, every muscle in his body fighting against the urge to jump Liam right then and there. “I love when you talk like that, Liam. Fuck.”

“This is —” Liam sucks in a breath, stepping back and turning away from him, pacing towards the window. “We said we wouldn’t do this. I… I _can’t_ do this.”

“If we — maybe just _once_ , to —”

“I can’t do just once, not with you. It’s never going to be just once when it comes to you.”

Drake sinks back against the counter. “I know.”

“Jesus, I can’t even be alone with you,” Liam runs a hand through his hair, staring out at the rapidly building snowfall. “I just… I would drown in you if you let me. And you’re always going to let me.”

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” Drake hazards a step towards him, but Liam backs away, resuming his pacing. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just you,” Liam sighs. “I should be better than this.”

“Right,” Drake tries not to let the words sting. “Better than _us_.”

“No, I —” Liam turns back to look at him, face pained. “Drake…”

“It’s okay, I get it. I do.”

“You have to understand,” Liam bites his lip, fingers tightening in his hair as he looks out at Drake helplessly. “There’s _nothing_ better than us. Not to me. Nothing in this whole world. But it isn’t up to me, and we both know that.”

“Yeah,” Drake says, already craving another Irish coffee, heavy on the Irish. Something to dull the pain of Liam’s reminder. Something to dull his feelings altogether. “I just wish…”

Liam shakes his head. “We can’t wish.”

“I know. But I still do.”

“I have to —” Liam cuts himself off, hands falling to his sides as his face falls, too. “Drake, I can’t, I can’t — I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay — I shouldn’t have pushed it, I know.”

“I wanted you to,” Liam sighs. “I just… I need a break. I’m sorry.”

When he leaves, Drake ends up drinking the whiskey straight, no time to add anything else. He pulls through four glasses before he heads upstairs to Olivia’s room, knocking clumsily on her door until she yanks him inside, hissing at him to get ahold of himself before the entire house hears.

He’s drunk already, her features blurring in front of him as she tightens her robe around her waist. He’s fairly certain she’s glaring at him, but that’s never stopped them before.

“I need you,” he says, the words slow in his mouth, “Liv, listen. What I said earlier —”

“It doesn’t matter,” She sighs, surveying him warily.  “It was all true and we both know it. How much have you had to drink? It’s barely _sunrise_ , Drake.”

“M’not sure.” The room keeps shifting around him. He closes his eyes. “Liv… Liv, he’s gonna break my heart.”

“Jesus, you’re smashed.” She leads him over to her bed, where he falls unceremoniously onto the comforter, catching himself on the post of the canopy and blinking up at her. She frowns down at him, crossing her arms. “What did he do?”

“I love him,” Drake says, dragging the words out too long. “I love him.”

If he were sober, he might have seen the pity in her eyes. “You have to stop drinking like this if you’re going to act this way afterwards. Not only do you look like an absolute fool, but you don’t have a single shred of discretion.”

“I just don’t wanna remember,” Drake reaches out towards her. “C’mon, Liv…”

She pushes his hand away, lips pursed into a thin line. “Not when you’re this drunk. I’m not dealing with that.”

“M’not drunk.” He makes a face at her, tilting his head. “He just… he makes me like this.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he _do_ , Drake?”

“Nothing, s’the problem.”

She takes a step back, arms falling at her sides, looking at him with an expression of sad realization. “Oh my god, you _really_ thought it was going to work out between the two of you, didn’t you? You actually, genuinely believed he would give it all up for you.”

At Drake’s frustrated sigh, she continues. “Shit, you _still_ do.”

“Why are you such a bitch?” he groans, leaning forward to drop his head in his hands, rubbing circles into his temples. God, everything hurts.

“Takes one to know one, Walker. And for the record, Liam did not push your blood alcohol content over the legal limit. That one was all you.” He can hear her moving about the room, the sounds spinning in his head so he can’t quite place them. Something hits him in the face, something soft; when he opens one eye to look at it, he sees Olivia riffling through drawers in the distance. Another item collides with the side of his head. This time it’s jeans, and they aren’t as soft.

“When you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, change into something that doesn’t smell like alcohol, okay? You left those in my room from last time. I had them dry cleaned.” She lets out a long breath. “I can’t believe I’m helping you out after the shit you said yesterday. For someone who runs their mouth as much as you do, you sure don’t know how to use it when it counts.”

“Isn’t what Liam tells me.”

She scoffs. “Nice. Well, Liam’s not telling you anything about your mouth anymore, remember? Go take a cold shower. And don’t use my shampoo again, the ingredients are illegal here and it’s not easy to smuggle in.”

He stands up, holding onto the bedpost for support as he steadies himself. When she crosses back over, he catches her arm. “Hey, Liv, I’m sorry. What I said… I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.” She shakes him off, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “You never are. And neither am I.”


End file.
